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Alright, mate, listen up! I’m Gandalf, radio cracklin’, voice boomin’—YOU SHALL NOT PASS!—talkin’ bout prostitutes, yeah? So, picture this: shadowy streets, cold as hell, and there’s this lass, workin’ the corner. Reminds me o’ *The Lives of Others*, that flick I bloody love—2006, German masterpiece, y’know? Stasi spyin’, lives torn, secrets everywhere. “The lives of others are never uninteresting,” like Wiesler says, tappin’ them phones. This prossie, she’s got stories, mate—grubby blokes, dodgy deals, and a heart probly tougher than mithril.

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So, I’m walking down the street, trying to shake off the bad luck. Otaki’s got this vibe, ya know? The mountains in the background, the ocean breeze. It’s beautiful. But then I hit the main drag, and it’s packed. Like, what’s up with all these tourists? I mean, I get it, the Otaki River is stunning, but c’mon! I can’t even get to my favorite coffee shop, the one on Otaki’s main street.

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